rift, meet one sam winchester.
That damn trickster had it right all along, Sam thinks to himself, as he stumbles down the street. Dean is dead, and Sam's having a hard time feeling much of anything anymore.
It's rare that he doesn't drink every night, sometimes to the point of passing out. In fact, there's definitely a noticeable air of... well, drunkenness in his step as he sways back and forth, trying to keep the world from spinning in his vision. But there wasn't anyone to pry the bottle out of his hands with an easy there, Sammy muttered in his ear. Nor was there a hand to hold him back when he'd decided to charge into a vampires' nest without any kind of plan or pretense. Dean's dead, and Sam doesn't have a reason to care much about living.
He looks around, trying to remember where he parked the Impala. At the same time, his hand slips into the pocket of his jacket, fishing around for car keys.
The car's nowhere in sight, and all his hand comes up with is a fistful of his inside pocket.
"What the..."
Last he checked, the bar hadn't been next to a park, either.
It's rare that he doesn't drink every night, sometimes to the point of passing out. In fact, there's definitely a noticeable air of... well, drunkenness in his step as he sways back and forth, trying to keep the world from spinning in his vision. But there wasn't anyone to pry the bottle out of his hands with an easy there, Sammy muttered in his ear. Nor was there a hand to hold him back when he'd decided to charge into a vampires' nest without any kind of plan or pretense. Dean's dead, and Sam doesn't have a reason to care much about living.
He looks around, trying to remember where he parked the Impala. At the same time, his hand slips into the pocket of his jacket, fishing around for car keys.
The car's nowhere in sight, and all his hand comes up with is a fistful of his inside pocket.
"What the..."
Last he checked, the bar hadn't been next to a park, either.